


Battle Games

by Angelfire2021



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Arya-centric, Badass Arya, Eventual Fluff, Eventual Sex, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fantasy, Fights, Fist Fights, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, POV Arya Stark, Sassy Arya Stark, Swordfighting, Swords, Violence, fightingforsurvival
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-23
Updated: 2019-11-16
Packaged: 2020-01-25 14:16:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 11
Words: 15,100
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18576175
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Angelfire2021/pseuds/Angelfire2021
Summary: Arya, Gendry and the Hound go to investigate issues in Starfall and Dorne.But even before they reach Starfall things start to go wrong, and Arya finds herself alone and trying to get back to her friends.After a group of scavengers have claimed all her possessions, clothes and even her body, will Arya be able to get find and rescue her friends who have found themselves in a new violent game sweeping across from Essos?Can they survive the Battle Games?This is a follow up to my story "Arya Rides into Town."  It set after season 8 but where the Hound has survived and Arya is doing a few jobs for Brandon before she goes off west.





	1. Ambush

The flash as sunlight off a metal object was enough for Arya to confirm what she’d been warned might happen. There was an ambush ahead. Predators awaiting unwary travellers through the pass. The rough road from Uplands to Starfall was more dangerous than it had ever been. She’d had been told that travelling without an armed escort was madness

Of course, Arya wasn’t alone. The Hound and Gendry rode through the pass below her, their keen eyes looking out for the trouble Arya already knew was ahead. Her dilemma was how to warn her friends without alerting the ambushers to her presence. They were leading Arya’s horse, which in itself would be a sign to a diligent force there was something they had to watch for.

Only Arya didn’t think they were dealing with a smart enemy.

If they were, then she wouldn’t be able to see them.

Feeling fit, and seeing her companions were moving cautiously far down in the pass below her, Arya set off at a good pace through the rocky cliffs on the side of the orange canyon that formed the main passage through the mountains to Starfall. Keeping low, and using the jagged outcrops to hide her movements, Arya closed on the enemy.

Wedged between two slabs of sandstone, she took a moment to survey both sides of the canyon. The enemy had picked an excellent position. Below, the pass had to bend around a wide outcrop meaning any travellers would end up, not only with their backs to the enemy but also with the sun behind them if the attackers picked the right time of day.

Arya approved. Maybe they weren’t quite as stupid as she first thought.

More flashes of metal reset her thinking. They were only visible for a brief fraction of a second, but it was enough for a killer with Arya’s skills to make out each of the enemy and their location. Soon enough, she had a good idea of their numbers.

Glancing back along the pass the Hound and Gendry kept their sensible pace. Both looked tense. Gendry had his hand on the handle of his Warhammer and was scanning the rocky cliffs for a sign of Arya, while the Hound resolutely stared ahead.

Arya smiled. They would know where she was soon enough.

Drawing the Valerian dagger from the belt around her waist, Arya crept towards the unsuspecting ambushers.

 


	2. A girl must kill her enemies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Having the advantage of surprise and being a lethal killer means killing a few nomadic ambushing warriors is going to be easy right?

The first of the ambushers died with a quiet gurgle trapped in his body forever as the terrifyingly sharp steel of Arya’s blade slit his throat. The warrior had been so intent on watching the two rider’s below he’d paid no attention to anything behind him, making it an easy kill. Arya wondered what he would’ve thought if he’d known he’d been killed by the same blade used to destroy the Night King.

Making sure the body was out of sight, Arya moved down through the rocks to next her victim. He was crouched behind some of the red sandstone boulders and holding a short curved bow. An arrow was ready to be nocked and released when the time was right to attack the innocent riders.

While she had to leap the last few feet down to his position, Arya did so with such tremendous speed the gap between the battle-scarred man hearing her movements and feeling the blade penetrate the space between his ribs was so short he never even turned his head.

Arya plunged the dagger in him a second time to make sure he was silenced.

There were two more men on the next outcrop. It was going to be tricky. One was sure to sound the alarm, but now she was among the ambush group, it would also have the effect of alerting her friends to the danger. Arya was sure the confusion of having a killer setting about them would be enough to ensure victory. In the midst of battle, confusion was always your friend. In fact, the men looked like the kind of rabble who’d run at the first sign of skilled opponents. Seeing them up close made Arya wonder if they would’ve really attacked the trio of obviously trained warriors riding through the pass.

Still, Arya suspected many innocent people had probably fallen victim to their crude ambushes, and the men deserved to die.

Looking along the pass towards where Arya and her friends had been heading, she saw there was dust rising. She couldn’s see clearly but suspected it was horses moving at pace. Friend or foe it was impossible to tell, but it did mean she needed to get this little incident over with.

Taking a breath, Arya ran forward five steps and launched herself off the edge of the rock in front of her before dropping the twelve feet or so. Her fall was broken by the backs of two more warriors watching her friends. The Valerian blade plunged into the side of the neck of the warrior on her right, and she juddered to a halt before yanking the weapon free. Though knocked forward, the man to the left had thick legs and wasn’t so easily knocked off balance. Arya cursed herself for not disabling him first.

He turned. A surprised look on his face at the girl now a step or two back from where he had been waiting. His large body may have given him a low centre of gravity, and allowed him to keep his footing, but it also meant he was slow. Arya slid beneath the muscular arms holding an axe, and sliced open his ample belly. Not a killing wound, but as the noise had already attracted the attention of his fellow ambushers, it was enough to tick him off the danger list.

Regaining her feet, Arya took in the action below. The Hound and Gendry had already spurred their horses forward as three warriors emerged from the lower part of the cliffs as they reacted to the threat. Counting two more between her and the pass floor, Arya saw they too were armed with wickedly curved bows like she had seen the Dothraki use.

One of the men was already turned towards her.

As he let the arrow fly Arya ducked to the left to let it pass harmlessly by. She was about to make her next move when there was a shout from one of the archers. He was pointing at the other end of the pass. Arya stole a glance and saw the cloud of dust was getting rapidly closer. Only she still had no idea what it meant. The men below her seemed agitated, as though it wasn’t good news.

A scream. Gendry had closed on one of his opponents, and a war hammer had crushed the stocky man’s skull beneath the inadequate leather cap. The Hound was about to summarily dispose of his target when a movement caught Arya’s eye to her right. She spun in time to see a figure leap out from the shadows where the rocks had formed an overhang. The man was completely bald and much smaller than Arya, but he moved with incredible speed and forced Arya back.

Another arrow whistled by. It struck the rock face and bounced harmlessly to the ground. The bald figure gave a wild scream and leapt again. It’s singled headed axe swiping through the air in a downward arc towards her head. Arya arched her back, allowing the vicious attack to pass inches above her face while at the same time thrusting her dagger upwards into the exposed ribcage.

The small warrior screamed and crashed to the floor. He tumbled into Arya, sending her reeling towards the edge. The man cried out in agony as he clutched his side and desperately looked for his weapon. Arya was about to deliver the killing blow when another arrow missed her by only a hair's breadth.

It smashed into her opponent's open mouth and shattered his jaw.

Arya knew she had to deal with the archers. She also needed to know what her friends were doing and so swivelled to both take a look and get behind some cover.

Her foot slipped.

The ground seemed to give way beneath her.

Arya desperately grabbed at the rocks for any kind of hold.  The stones were covered with wet blood making them too slick to hold. Her fingers slipped, and she dropped from the outcrop. For a second Arya thought she had got away with the fall as her body wedged between two boulders only six feet below. Then her momentum saw her crash against the hard surface of one of the rocks, and she felt the blow to her head.

The last thought Arya had as the blackness took her was how shit it was being undone by slipping on some fat man’s intestines.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed. Please leave a review if you do so I know its worth keep going :)
> 
> And hit that kudos as well. It really feeds a writers ego!!


	3. Hunting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Coming round things aren't getting any better for Arya.
> 
>  
> 
> This chapter is dedicated to the Hound. :(

A blinding pain seared across Arya’s head as she opened her eyes. But it wasn’t the sun because there was figure squatting beside her blocking the yellow globe. There was a throbbing at the back of her head, a coppery taste in her mouth, a feeling of her legs being pulled into the air and something grabbing at her chest.

While her thoughts were still muddy, her eyes focused and Ayra realised the figure over her was pulling her jacket open.

“This one lives.” The figure of a teen boy with a wispy beard and sunburnt face backed away from Arya before she could grab him. At the same moment, she felt her legs drop to the floor. A second youth, a girl, had just hauled her breeches clean off.

“We go, we go.” It was the girl who spoke. Fuzzy brown hair bouncing as she leapt onto the top of a nearby rock like a wildcat. Too weak to pull a rapid sequence of moves, Arya tried to her best to clamber to her feet and grab one of her opponents. Only the moment she came upright, her body screamed in protest at the sudden movements. By the time Arya had unsteadily regained her feet, the two attackers were scampering away up the cliff face. There were other figures around her; carrying weapons and clothes she assumed had been scavenged from the dead bodies.

Looking to the floor of the mountain pass, there was no sign of the Hound or Gendry. Had they ridden off without her? What had happened? She remembered the horses she’d seen in the valley, but they too had vanished. The sun had passed its zenith. She’d been out of it for some time.

Whistles echoed around the canyon. It seemed the scruffy youths were using the sounds as signals to coordinate their movements and were leaving. Checking herself over Arya discovered she’d been picked clean. Not only had they taken her trousers and boots, but her valerian steel dagger was missing, Needle, her money pouch, belt and her drinking flask.

While her damaged body demanded she curl up to rest, Arya knew being without weapons and water so far from a decent sized settlement was a death sentence. Her possessions were currently on the move further up the mountain face. If she was going to survive, then Arya needed to get after them.

Sucking in a lungful of air and shaking her head, Arya focused on her task. Her training allowed her to ignore pain. To get injured parts of her body moving which would seem impossible to an average person. After tying her ripped top the best she could, Arya stepped on the rocks with her bare feet before pushing off in a move allowing her to grab onto the side of the cliff, and haul herself up out of the wedge of stone she’d fallen between. She couldn’t totally ignore her throbbing left knee, needing to cater for its inability to take her full weight, but it wouldn’t slow her down.

By the time she reached the peak of the canyon cliffs, Arya was fighting back despair as well as coping with injuries. She was forced to stop for a moment and take in more air to clear her clouded thoughts. With each massive effort, Arya found her vision blurring, but it was still good enough to know her prey was getting away. They were young and quick. Swarming over the rock face and clearly understanding the best routes to take.

Arya felt like an old woman in comparison, nursing her body with every step, biting back pain every time she hauled herself over another rock. Even bounding down the slopes proved challenging to maintain a decent pace and hold her physique together. She knew her feet were cut and bleeding. But she had to keep pushing.

Managing to see the route the last of the wildcat youths had taken, Arya followed and made use of their knowledge of the terrain. The hot wind occasionally swirled up the dust. It was chokingly dry, making her dehydration feel ten times worse. Each time she tried to wipe some grit from her eye, Arya nearly lost her balance.

Another fall and she knew she wouldn’t be getting up.

The wildcat youths again crested a rise, dancing down into yet another canyon before squeezing through gaps in the rocks which would be impossible for a full-sized adult. Fortunately, Arya was skinny enough to slip through after them.

But when she emerged blinking in the sunlight after what seemed like a long tunnel rather than a crack in the rocks, they were nowhere to be seen. Arya desperately searched the horizon and every facet of the cliffs opposite. They’d vanished.

Falling to her knees in despair, she finally felt like curling up into a ball and letting the sweet darkness of sleep take her. The aches and pains which had been tormenting her body increased their intensity as she allowed her mental grip to slip.

Yet they had to be somewhere. There must be a settlement or something. Taking her time Arya dropped down the few hundred feet of the lower part of the mountain. The ground was still dusty, but there was no wind on the lower slopes as other outcrops rose all around shielding the area. Hazarding a guess, she trotted forward, and sure enough, there were the faint outlines of running feet on the dusty ground.

With renewed hope, Arya made her way across the valley floor until the tracks disappeared as the rocks and cliff face rose once more. Thankfully it didn’t take her long to find the path they must have taken. She squeezed through more tight spaces which must have formed when the cliffs collapse in on themselves. At one point the passageway created was so long there was barely any light in the middle. It had also narrowed so much there was a point Arya didn’t think she was going to make it. It had taken an almighty push and further scrapes on her bare legs before she made it through.

There were to more large ridges she had to cross in the same manner, but as the sun was setting Arya noted they were moving round to the east, at least getting closer to her original destination. Already parched, the dry dust throughout the day only made her ordeal worse, and as dusk descended on the land, Arya found herself leaning against a rough slab of rock looking across yet another valley. Her body couldn’t cope with more climbing.

Energy reserves were utterly depleted. Her head was pounding, not just from her fall, but dehydration. Without water, Arya knew she wouldn’t survive long into the next day. Sleep might revive her a little, but it wouldn’t be enough.

Closing her eyes, she breathed deeply, trying to quell as much pain as she could.

Arya didn’t know how long her eyes were shut, but when she opened them, the sun had slipped out of sight, and the first of the stars were twinkling in the clear night sky.

For a moment she thought she saw something among the ridge across the valley.

Her vision still feeling blurred, Arya blinked a few times before trying to focus again.

She could see figures scurrying among the rocks holding some form of light.

Arya wasn’t alone.


	4. Holers

Despite not knowing who they were, Arya’s only option was to try and make contact, and while she tried to stagger between the huge rocks jutting out of the valley floor in a manner not to draw too much attention to herself, it was in vain. With enough of the dimming light for the sharp-eyed, the flickering torch moved in her direction. Grabbing a large stone from the floor, Arya prepared for them to reach her. The hand holding the rock shook uncontrollably as she tried to remain focused. Eyes strained to focus in the gloom as lances of pain speared through her head.

Three figures emerged. They walked line abreast. Wicked looking spears held out in front, and wary of the stranger.

Arya noted they weren’t very old. The youngest looking, the black-haired boy to her right was probably in his mid-teens, while the skinny one to the left with an aggressively pocked marked face was probably about her age. The oldest looking was the youth in the centre. He was over six feet tall, sporting gangly arms and bowlegs giving him a peculiar gait as he shuffled forward. Despite his awkward build, Arya saw muscles rippling across his bare chest which would make him a dangerous opponent. His dark brown eyes gazed at her with a mixture of suspicion and curiosity. But they weren’t the eyes of a killer.

In fact, none of the three, despite their aggressive postures, look like hardened thugs.

“I’m following those who stole my weapons.” Arya decided on to take a more commanding position. Only her throat was cracked and dry. A hoarse voice did little to project authority. The three remained a few strides away, spears levelled at her chest.

“And I need some water.” She pointed to the water pouches attached to the belts of each of the boys. They looked nearly empty, but it would be better than nothing.

“Trade.” The bigger one jutted out his chin as if it was a display of strength.

Arya remained silent. Not sure how to react.

“Trade.” He pushed the spear towards her. Though it appeared more of a message than any sort of threat. Only Arya wasn’t sure what the message was supposed to convey.

“My money was stolen.” Arya kept a fighting stance ready to hurl the rock, but as none of them seemed eager to stick her with their spears, the situation still felt under control.

“Trade.” The talkative middle youth took one hand off his spear and pointed towards Arya’s jacket. He then lifted the water pouch from his belt.

“If I can find the people who stole my money, I’ll pay you for the water.”

The three looked at each other and then back at her.

“What’s your name?” It was hard for Arya to speak her mouth was so parched, but she had to form some sort of dialogue. She needed water first, to avoid falling over. But after that, she hoped they could take her to where they came from. While Arya didn’t recognise them as the ones who stole her belongings, they had the same half-feral look. And she hoped they all came from the same place.

“Lug.” The middle one said.

“Cos of his ears.” The black-haired boy smirked, and the on named Lug glared at him.

“I’m Arya Stark. Pleased to meet you, Lug.” Switching the stone into her left-hand Arya stepped forward and held out her right.

Three spear points pressed against the outside of her tunic. While her first instinct was to deflect them and look to disarm all three opponents, she wasn’t sure how much energy her body had, and how good her reactions would be. She dropped her hand and let the stone fall to the floor.

“My family have money,” she persisted. “You will get lots to trade. Gold for your water. Good trade.”

The three looked at each other again. Arya could almost see the slow thoughts ticking over in their heads.

“Trade now. Or go back.” Lug waved the water pouch at her.

“Can you take me to your people?”

“I can.” The skinny one spoke this time.

“No, she belong to Lug.” The tall one hissed at his companion. Arya wasn’t sure she like the sound of that.

“I saw her first,” the skinny one whined. “Scavenger rights.”

“I lead you follow. You learn.”

“Not fair.” The boy shook his head.

Arya’s head was spinning so much she struggled to work out the dynamic of the group. Another lightning bolt of agony smashed through her temple. If she didn’t get some water inside her, Arya knew she was going to pass out.

“I need water,” she reached towards Lug’s pouch.

“Trade.” Once again, he poked at her tunic.

Realising she wasn’t going to get anywhere with the current trade talks. Arya fumbled at the buttons with her shaking fingers before she was able to push the jacket over her shoulders and offer it up to Lug. He handed her the pouch in return and Arya greedily unplugged the stopper before pouring the water into her mouth. The first gush of liquid felt incredible after what had seemed like an age of no fluid. It was warm, but that didn’t matter.

Seconds later, she felt it all coming back again and slumped to her knees as the brackish water gushed onto the floor. Two of the young men stepped back, but Lug remained where he was and laughed. Arya sat back on her haunches. This time she let the water dribble down her throat to provide much-needed relief. Despite the vomiting, there was a weak surge of strength in her limbs. At least her parched throat didn’t feel as though it was going to close and suffocate her anymore.

“Where do you live?” Arya hadn’t heard of any settlements in the mountains. They were so arid even the hardy goats of the nearby lands stayed away.

“We are Holers.” Lug pounded on his chest proudly. The others followed suit. “From the Hole.”

“The hole?” Arya let some more water swish around her mouth. While squatting on the ground in front of potential enemies made her vulnerable, she was aware of needing help to sort herself out in these lands. Hunting down those who stole her belongings didn’t seem such a good idea now she found herself far from civilisation. Lug and his two sidekicks, while not the sharpest of minds, did have access to a place where she might find her stuff and recover.

“Hole.” Lug nodded.

“In the mountain.” The skinny one added, obviously thinking he was trying to be helpful.

“No one bothers us there. No one takes us away.” The black-haired youth put in for good measure as though he didn’t want to be left out of the conversation.

“The others,” Arya said. “Those who took my stuff. Will they be there?”

“Drake’s team.” Lug spat on the ground unhealthily close to Arya. As he didn’t offer anything further, she assumed they were also part of the Holers.

“Can you take me there?”

Lug let out a great roar of laughter, causing his belly to wobble. “Of course. You’ve been scavenged now.”

He reached down and grabbed the front of Arya’s woollen undershirt before hauling her to her feet. His gangly arms demonstrated remarkable strength as he lifted her so high she was forced to scrabble with her toes for purchase on the dirt beneath them.

Arya wasn’t keen on the idea of being scavenged.

“What about us?” the skinny one prodded Lug’s thick arm.

“I’m leader.” Lug said.

“We a team.” The other said. “We all share bounty remember. You already got something.” He nodded to the jacket over Lug’s shoulder.

Still holding Arya, she saw a look of confusion on his face, which clearly meant his dim brain was thinking.

“Can we sort it out at this hole place.” She asked, hopefully. “Perhaps talk to your leaders.”

“We take you to Elders, of course.” The skinny one nodded again looking proud. “Show them our scavenge.”

It wasn’t quite what Arya was hoping for, but the Hole sounded like somewhere she might have a chance of getting her energy back and speaking to people in authority. 

“But we need something?” He said the last to Lug who was nodding. Dropping Arya, he flipped her tunic off his shoulder and tossed it to the skinny one before his hand gripped the front of her shirt once more. Only this time he tugged at it rather than trying to lift her. He pointed his spear towards the skinny boy.

“Gollo have this.”

“You’re not serious?” Arya grabbed the part of the shirt he was pulling at and held it firmly. “This is no way to treat a lady, and I’m Lady Arya Stark from the house Winterfell. My brother is Brandon Stark, King of Westeros.”

“You scavenge. We scavengers.” Lug said

Arya sighed. No one seemed to pay much attention when she said who she was. Perhaps if she grabbed one of the spears put Lug on the floor and held the point at his throat, then he’d pay a little more attention to what she said. It was a tempting idea. Perhaps trying to march them all back to their hole and their leader. But in her weakened state, she wasn’t so sure.

They seemed extremely young in the way they acted, even Lug who was probably older than she was. It made her wonder about the group living in this hole place they talked about, and how they got. The problem was it was also the only way she could see of getting any kind of help. Even if Arya decided to abandon her stuff and go off to find her friends there appeared to be a slim chance of her making it back across these desolate lands to safety without food, water and some sort of guide.

As unappealing as the idea was, it seemed her only avenue of survival rested with the three dim-witted oafs in front of her.


	5. Scavenge

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arya finds herself classed as scavenge and hasn't much strength to fight back. But who are these Holers? And will they turn out to be friend or foe?

“My name means I have access to money,” Arya persisted. “Real gold.” She rubbed her fingers together, and the expressions on the three youth’s faces looked as if they expected gold to magically appear in her hands. “If you help me, I’ll be able to get you gold. More gold than you could get scavenging.” She grabbed onto her shirt to emphasise the point.

“We like gold,” Gollo said. “Give us gold.”

“Give us gold.” Lug had a hungry look in his eyes.

“Buy good stuff from city with gold.” The third one chipped in with a similar eagerness.

“They won’t laugh at us with gold,” Lug nodded in agreement.

“I’ve not got it here.” Arya made a hand motion as if holding a heavy bag of coins in her palm. “I will get it sent to you. A big bagful.”

“Gold now.” Lug prodded her in the chest; his eyes roaming again.

“I’ve not got it here,” Arya tried to keep her voice calm. “My family will send it. My brother. You know the King?”

“No gold,” Lug grabbed her shirt. “You lying?”

“Just not on me,” Arya wanted to grab him around the neck and try to bash some sense into his head. She looked at the others pleadingly hoping they at least understood.

“We don’t trust outsiders.” Gollo put in. “Can’t trade on promises.”

Arya then realised his understanding wasn’t going to help.  “I will get you gold if you help. I keep my word, and my brother is king.”

“We help you trade this,” Lug emphasised the shirt.

“But I’ll get you bloody gold.” Arya pleaded.

“When you get gold, we trade back.” Lug looked around at the others, and they seemed satisfied with the arrangement.

“Take her to elders and tell him we can trade her for gold too,” Gollo said. “We’ll be honoured scavengers.”

“The others won’t laugh at us anymore.” The third one nodded.

“And if I refuse,” Arya grabbed Lugs wrist, which was holding her shirt, and stared him down. She was perplexed a deal was coming down to scraps of clothing, however expensive they may appear to people who spent their days living among barren mountains and scavenging for their existence.

“We take anyway,” Lug lifted Arya off the ground by her shirt, as she contemplated twisting his wrist to disable him, and the consequences of such action.  He then threw her backwards, and while Arya only went back a few feet, the force of the throw deposited her on her backside. It knocked the wind out of her, sending waves of pain through her already strained body. Feeling as though she was going to hurl again, Arya knew resistance was futile.

Lug loomed over her.

“Alright, Alright.” Arya unbuttoned her shirt before hauling it off. Lug used his Spear to scoop it up and pass it to his colleague.

“Now we go to Elders.” He indicated she should rise and Arya Struggled to her feet.

Making their way through the rocks with the three scavengers was a surreal experience. Arya’s head was spinning with fatigue and pain. The final, simple push onto the floor, having knocked any fight and so much energy out of her body she was barely able to function. And yet, despite her stumbling along and state of undress the three captors guarded her carefully with one of them always behind her, his spear ready to jab at the slightest movement they considered suspicious.

They muttered to themselves happily about the good scavenge, and how they will be treated back at the Hole. Lug kept on about how pretty she was, and maybe he should be able to claim her as his own as the group leader. The others would then descend into arguments about shared spoils and how much the gold they might get and what it would buy them.

When it was pointed out she could be lying about the gold, another argument broke about how to share the spoils. It involved further crude bartering which seemed to indicate they all would be allowed to share her as a mate.

It was a conversation that had Gollo walking next to her, and sometimes he would pull at Arya’s arms, which were across her bare chest, wanting to get a better look.

For a while, she managed to fend him off, but eventually, he got a good grip and yanked her arm down. It was then, despite the pain and fatigue she was suffering, something inside Arya snapped, and she lost control, lashing out and driving her elbow at Gollo’s face.

Slow to react, the youth took the blow flush on the jaw collapsed to the dirt, giving a yelp as he did so. Lug spun around in front of her, but the rage still powered Arya, and she flicked aside his spear before stepping inside his guard, delivering a knee to his groin.

Lug staggered a few steps back until he struck the side of the cliff marking the edge of a wide dirt path they were walking down. Too late Arya considered the third youth behind her as she felt the tip of the spear in the small of her back with enough force to pierce the skin.

Her ailing body sucking in air, she was tempted to spin and grab the weapon, but the few moments of thinking time her fogged up brain needed was allowed Gollo to hurl himself at her legs. As he grabbed them, Arya lost her balance and crashed to the floor. Head smashing against the solid dirt floor, Arya saw bright lights spinning in her vision.

She groaned, turning onto her back to see the three faces of her captors over her, and two spears at her throat. Arya closed her eyes, trying to gain a semblance of control, but all she wanted to do was go to sleep.

She heard voices, mutterings, commands. Someone was shouting at her, but she wasn’t sure what they were saying. Then there was darkness. Her eyes flashed open again, and Arya realised she was in an abnormal position. It was dark too, and she was facing something warm and fleshy, while her head was pounding so much she was convinced somebody was still beating it.

Eventually, Arya worked out the swaying was not just in her head, but her whole body was swinging back forth. There was a grunt. Hands grabbed her bare thighs, a sudden lurching which pulled her up a little way before her waist was rested against something bony.

Her head-clearing, Arya discerned the flesh she was staring at belonged to Lug’s naked back. She’d been slung over his shoulder and was now being carried. An attempt to move her hands to do something about her predicament only revealed they were tied behind her. Arya tested the bonds. There was some give, but they weren’t going to come apart very easily.

Craning her neck, the youth marching behind grinned as he waved the spear point towards her face.

“Get the fuck off me,” Arya screamed, trying to summon up a well of rage to give her the energy to fight back. For a moment, her jerky movements gave Lug pause as she threatened to overbalance him. Then his muscular arm wrapped around her thighs and gave her a tight squeeze.

“Girl, stop struggling.”

Arya then felt an almighty whack on a backside exposed by being flung over his shoulder. It was then she realised she no longer had on her underclothes, and they had truly scavenged everything off her.

Arya thought about how the day had started with such promise. She could almost have laughed, but instead thrashed again as more anger surged through her. Arya knew it was a stupid, ill-thought-out move. Even if she did find herself loose with her hands bound, she’d crash to the floor and probably not get up again. The sensible thing to do was conserve her energy and go with the flow until another opportunity presented itself.

Only when being hauled naked by three youths with barely an intelligent thought between them, she felt the need to offer some resistance.

“Stop!” Another sting on her backside was as humiliating as it was painful. The anger still flooded through her as Arya’s vision blurred again, forcing her to stop struggling and suck in deep breaths of air to prevent passing out. To make things worse, the violent wriggling had seen her slip further down his back, meaning her face was now bouncing off Lug’s enormous backside. She contemplated sinking her teeth into his skin and ripping at the flesh, and while it would stop them for the moment, Arya sighed and let the thought go. Even her throbbing fogged-up head had to accept the situation.

As the journey went on, and she bounced against the back of Lug, Arya went through her breathing exercises, trying to calm her body and mind. They were now climbing into the mountains again despite the darkness, which meant the going was slow and painful. She noted they seemed able to move quite freely, the clear skies and bright moon giving them the only light they needed. Arya yearned to see where they were heading but didn’t want to be asking them to turn her around. There was already plenty of lewd and humiliating remarks about her as it was.

The throbbing in Arya’s head lessened. She closed her eyes, allowing her body to move with the swaying instead of trying to fight it, even to the point she created enough inner calm there were moments sleep consumed her, and allowed her to recover some strength.

Loud voices brought her back, and she strained to look around Lugs thick body.

“Scavenge.” Lug said, and Arya could feel him stand more upright, puffing out his chest.

“Lug did good.” Another male voice, deeper sounding and Arya sensed someone stepping around her captor. She turned her head to look at a tall youth with shockingly bright ginger hair. He was carrying a what looked like a tall stone wine goblet, only this one had flames emerging from the cup at the top and gave them extra light.

He was wearing a garish concoction of different styles of clothing, though Arya did recognise more traditional clothes from the region.

“A dirty one.” He pressed his hand under her chin and lifted her head a little. “You find her like this?”

“No, scavenged.” Gollo held up her tunic.

“You could have waited until you got her here.” A woman's voice chuckled, and she came into Arya’s view. She too had bright ginger hair, tied in a ponytail, so it flowed down her back. “That tunic is good. How much you want for it?”

“And how much for this fine scavenge?” The man rubbed Arya’s cheek while his other hand reached between her body and Lug’s back to fondle a naked breast.

Arya used the only weapon she had.

“The bitch bit me.” Jumping back, the ginger-haired youth held up the hand which had been rubbing her cheek, looking in horror at the blood dripping down his index finger. Arya spat some blood onto the rocky floor below. She’d bitten down so fast and hard there was a moment she’d thought she was going to be spitting out a finger.

Her body shook as Lug roared with laughter.

“You still want her brother?” The woman said and then lifted Arya’s head by her hair, making sure she didn’t allow her hand to be anywhere close to getting bitten. “I might have this one myself.”

“My scavenge,” Lug grunted, pulling his prize away, which led to Arya’s hair being yanked. She spat the rest of the blood towards the woman in protest. The woman grinned, showing crooked and blackened teeth.

“All scavenge has to be declared,” Gollo said, and the others grunted.

“No harm in making a trade before.” The woman kept up her smile, eyeing up the elegant tunic.

“Rules.” Lug said.

“Us holers decide the rules.” The woman scowled. “So we can break them.”

“Lug follow rules.” There was a pride in the youth’s voice. For the first time, Arya found herself rooting for her captor.

“You’ve got a chance to be one of us with this scavenge.” The woman with the ginger hair continued. Her brother had stopped his whimpering and was wrapping a piece of animal skin around his hand in a dramatic fashion. He looked down at Arya and hissed. She certainly hoped Lug stood his ground.

“Lug follow rules.”

“Then you know where to go.” The woman’s pleasant voice turned stern as she stepped away, nodding to others stood a little way off. Lug and his two companions set and passed through what appeared to be a large cavern embedded in the side of a mountain. There was a small fire burning at the entrance where the two  Holers stood and watched with impassive faces as the small party carrying their loot lumbered passed.

The three youths made their way through a vast cavern almost pitch black at points, before it was clear to Arya they’d emerged back into the open. There seemed only to be a handful of people about though there was ample light from both the bright moon and the occasional stone bowls burning some kind of thick oil to provide light. Taking in as much as she could, Arya watched as they climbed up through a small valley and into what appeared to be a huge, hollowed-out area of the rocky mountains only accessible via the cavern.

A few folks wandered out to see what loot had been brought back and were making whooping sounds when they saw Lug’s burden. While she didn’t really want to make eye contact with the faces of young men and women leering at her, Arya needed to gather as much information about the Holers as she could. The first thing that struck her as they were all young; mid to late teens and early twenties at the most. In fact, the oldest one had been the ginger woman at the main entrance, but she probably just looked older because of the state of her skin and teeth.

Eventually, they reached their destination. Lug shuffled a few more steps towards the rock face, before swing Arya off his shoulder and dumping her on her feet. As she tried to gain her footing, pins and needles shot through her legs, making it challenging to balance as her hands were still bound.

“You sleep in there tonight.” Lug turned her toward an opening in the rocky cliff wall and gave her a shove.

Arya stumbled into the darkened entrance as the sound of Lug’s laughing with his companions faded into the night. She took in a deep breath, ready to face whatever lay in the cave and wondering how the hell she was going to find her friends.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Slightly longer chapter. I hope you enjoy. Please let me know and I will keep them coming on a Sunday.


	6. The cave

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thrown into a cave for the night Arya finds she is not alone

Ducking underneath the low rocky ceiling, Arya noted nothing stopped her from turning and fleeing the cave. No bars or doors blocked the entrance. Before venturing further, she looked back, and though there wasn’t much light, she couldn’t see any guards. It was the strangest prison she’d ever heard of. Did they expect prisoners to simply sit and await their fate?

Of course, Arya’s hands were bound, but if she pulled on the bonds hard enough, she might be able to break free. Then she had little doubt she’d be able to find a weapon of some description.

And while they were thoughts filling her with hope, Arya was aware of how weak she was. Thirst was once again wracking her body. Exhausted, she took a deep breath, and suddenly feeling dizzy, Arya stumbled. She went down on one knee to avoid crashing over.

A moment later, she started as someone moved beside her and Arya felt the gentle touch of a hand on her bare shoulder. Immediately, Arya’s instinct told her it was the hand of someone trying to help. She glanced up to see a middle-aged, plump woman with greying hair, crouch next to her. The woman’s arm offered steadying support.

“Are you alright dear? Have they hurt you?”

Arya recognised the Dornish accent. There were flickering oil lights in the cave reflecting off the woman’s olive skin. Despite being elderly and clearly not one of the Holers, the woman wore only an animal skin loincloth. Arya suspected she was more used to wearing finer garments.

“Not really,” Arya relaxed, sinking to both knees. “Hungry and thirsty more like.”

“There’s water here.” A second voice. A man who looked older than the woman. He was skinny, his olive skin wrinkled from head to toe. The man didn’t have the benefit of a loincloth.

“Come with me,” the woman tugged at Arya’s arm.

Arya staggered back onto her feet as she allowed herself to be guided further into the cave where the roof stretched higher. She heard the trickling sound of water and saw there were three pedestals of upturned bowls with burning oil, the smoke seemingly vanishing into the jagged rocks above them.

They’d only walked ten paces or so when they came upon a deep pool of water. To the right, a gentle stream cascaded from the roof, the water bouncing off the rocks of the wall before it hit the pool. Arya couldn’t see how it left the cave.

“It’s good.” The man scooped some with his hand and sucked it into his mouth as if he was trying to prove it was safe to drink.

“Can you untie my hands?” Arya asked.

The man and woman looked at each other.

“I’m afraid we can’t, dear.” The woman patted the back of Arya’s shoulders. “They must consider you dangerous. If we interfere…”

“We need their help to get home.” The man added in an apologetic tone.

“We don’t want to jeopardise that.” The woman confirmed.

Lacking the strength to argue, Arya went back down on her knees near the falling water. She was able to lean forward, allowing the cool liquid to trickle into her mouth. It tasted so sweet as it slid down her parched throat. Arya remembered to drink slow enough so her stomach didn’t heave. Between thirst-quenching swallows, she let the water wet her face and revelled in its refreshing quality, even though the splashes landing on her bare chest, causing her to shiver.

“Are you prisoners here?” Arya asked when she’d satisfied her parched throat.

“You are never truly prisoners of the Holers.” The woman said. “My husband Anders and I are waiting for the next expedition to Starfall. We can then deal with our business there and head back home.”

“After we’ve paid the ransom,” Anders muttered before taking a few more handfuls of water. He then sat down and crossed his legs. His back leant against the wall and arms rested in a manner which kept him modest.

“It’s not a ransom dear.” The woman cautioned. “More a reward for saving our lives.”

“Might as well be.” Anders didn’t seem convinced.

“The Holers offered to escort us back to the city for a fee. Or a trade as they call it. Otherwise, we could go on our own.” The woman shrugged as she moved to sit next to her husband. “But we would never survive, and we have little to offer if we stayed.”

Anders snorted and shook his head.

“I’m afraid my husband is a little impatient with our hosts.”

“Savages is what they are.” Alfred clenched his fists. “They eat and rut like animals. Not a shred of decency among them.”

“How did you get here?” Arya turned to face them. Conscious she was unable to cover herself Arya knelt with her legs closed tight in an attempt to retain a little modesty. Ander’s eyes kept slipping to her chest, and then, as if catching himself would stare at the opposite wall.

“Our caravan was raided.” the woman said. “Land pirates overwhelmed the escort. We were able to unhitch our horses and ride them away, but one went lame, and the other couldn’t carry us both. It also turned out we were headed in the wrong direction.”

“And we paid good money for that passage.” Anders shook his head.  “The guards were useless and not a soldier in sight.”

“There were too many raiders dear.” The woman patted her husband’s knee. “If we’d have known things were so bad, we’d have never taken the trip.”

“The Seven should have protected us,” he protested. “We were doing their work.”

“The Seven obviously have plans for us.”

“Is that what you think about Morwenna? The purpose of the Seven. You think they would approve?”

“We have to eat husband.”

“Savages,” Anders seemed to cower back against the walls.

“So did the Holers find you?” Arya was trying to work out what Anders was so upset about, but her head was still too woolly to think clearly. Thirst quenched, her body was screaming at her to find a place to sleep, but Arya knew she needed to gather as much information as possible.

“They find lost things in these mountains and on the barren plains.” Morwenna nodded her head. “We were lost. They saved our lives.”

“And took our dignity?” Anders mumbled.

“Trading?” Arya asked.

“That’s what the bastards like to call it.”

“Now husband, we’d long since be pecked by the carrion crows if they hadn’t taken us in. And they are only young’ uns.”

“Feral. More like.”

“Do you know where they come from?” Arya asked.

“Whoresons and daughters of those bastard Lannisters I expect.” Anders was red in the face and almost shaking.

“Husband, dear.” Morwenna went to put her arm around him. He pulled away.

“I should have protected you. The Seven should have protected us.” He placed his head in his hands and Morwenna had an anguished look on her face. “What they are doing. Making us do is just wrong.”

“He’s not taken it so well. They have their own ways here. Not long after the war, many refugees and orphans were rounded up to be taken by the slavers for the Battle Games. Of course, since Dorne has taken to the games, it’s got even worse for the unwashed.”

“The Battle Games?” This was new to Arya.

“Where they fight over a ball or something in an arena. It came from Essos. A replacement for the fighting pits I heard. My husband is actually a big fan. Though he does not like to admit it.”

Alfred started making a sound which was like a low wail.

“I better settle him before he attracts attention. They like us to be quiet. There are no covers I’m afraid, but there are piles of dry moss we’ve pulled together to sleep on. At least it’s comfortable, there’s some here you can use.” The old woman pointed to the other side of the cave.

Though Arya had dozens of questions, she could see the woman was concerned for a husband and moved away. The pile of brown moss had already been laid out as if some sort of bed, and while it looked thin when she lay on it, Arya felt the soft cushioning embrace her body.

Any thoughts of escape would have to wait until she was after she was rested.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading so far.


	7. Am I a prisoner?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arya has a rude awaking but begins a new day at the mercy of the Holers.
> 
> The first of two quieter chapters exploring this new place and its people.

Someone was prodding her. Arya thought she was still dreaming, and it took her a moment to realise the prodding was targeting one of her breasts. It soon turned into groping.

“Trade.” Was the accompanying grunt.

Her eyes flew open. Arya instinctively went to try and grab the offending arm with the notion to break the owner’s wrist in at least three places. Then it dawned on her; this wasn’t going to be easy with her wrists bound behind her back. Instead, she jerked her body, allowing her to attempt a kick from her prone position on the moss bed. While the blow struck the young man knelt beside her, and was enough for him to shuffle back in case of further attacks, it didn’t hurt him.

“Trade.” Came a more indignant call.

“Get off me,” Arya hissed as she weighed up her opponent in the light of her restrictive movement. He held up a plate of food. Arya got a whiff of cooked meat. The man holding the dish was probably not yet twenty. He sported a wispy beard and shaggy hair as he squatted down, and was only wearing a pair of woollen trousers. He looked at her expectantly.

“This has got to be a joke,” Arya moved onto her knees and shook her head. The smell of the roasted flesh made her stomach growl, and she desperately needed to drink again.

Sunlight poured into the cave, and it was heating up the corner she’d slept in.

“You are not supposed to trade food,” Morwenna stepped over to the conversation from where she’d slept with her husband the night before. “It's not yours to trade.”

The youth looked at the older woman and pulled a face before he shoved the plate down next to Arya. With another scowl, he scuttled out of the cave. Morwenna retrieved the offering and sat in front of Arya, with her legs crossed. Anders was by the water splashing his face.

“Sorry, they can be like that.”

“Why did he listen to you?” Arya was curious at the Holer’s rapid retreat from the situation. In most cases, jailers took as much advantage as possible of their prisoners.

“The food is part of your treatment as a guest, and it wasn’t his to trade. If I told on him, then he would be punished. Ogg is a nice lad really.”

Arya raised her eyebrows. “A real gentleman.” She turned her attention to the food and wondered how she was going to cope with bound hands.

“Here, let me help.” Morwenna picked up a strip of meat and pushed it towards Arya’s face. Feeling like a foolish child, Arya took the flesh in her mouth. It was warm and tasted delicious, like fatty hog meat. “Rock Rats,” Morwenna said as if anticipating the question as she held up another piece. “Looks foul, but they make good eating, and they’re plentiful. For such a barren place, its surprising how much food they have.”

Arya nodded and continued taking in the food. Being so hungry, the fatty meat tasted terrific, and the succulent juice dripped down her throat. While Arya wasn’t sure how long she’d slept, it felt as if a considerable portion of much-needed energy had returned. Though she still needed to eat and drink to get back to full strength.

The moss pile had been surprisingly comfortable. At first, Arya had expected to spend the night trying to ignore itches she couldn’t scratch, but after lying down it had smoothed out and shaped itself around her body. Arya had fallen asleep almost instantly.

“What will they do with me?” Arya swallowed the last of the meat and dry bread, wishing there was more. Licking her lips, she eyed up the water pool as her next mission and began to struggle to her feet.

“You’ll go before the judges,” Morwenna helped Arya stand and walked across the cave floor beside Arya. “They are like village elders. Though some of them are not much older than kids themselves.”

“Will I be on trial?” Reaching the pool, Arya knelt and leant forward, allowing the water to trickle into her mouth and wash down the last of the food. As water splashed onto her face, Arya felt like herself again.

“They are judges because they decide who wins contests, and who has broken the rules. There are two lead judges while the others are made up of Holers who take turns in acting as a judge. It’s a strangely civilised way of doing things.”

“They are savages pretending to be rulers, Morwenna, nothing more.” There was still anger in Ander’s voice, but at least he wasn’t shouting or going red. “You got a taste of that this morning. Dirty, depraved savages.”

Before Arya could ask Ander’s what he meant, two young women flanking a stout looking male teen in an ill-fitting gambison, ducked into the cave.

“That’s my bloody coat,” Ander’s muttered.

“Steady dear,” Morwenna whispered. “Better he’s wearing your clothes than carrion pecking your skin. This is Rob,” She said more loudly to Arya. “He is one of the judges.”

“You will come with us to the morning judgement.” He pointed to Arya. He wasn’t carrying any weapons, but she could see by his stance that Rob was a trained fighter. His square jaw sported a trim beard that looked good on him. He also seemed to have a better grasp of speaking than any of the Holers she’d met so far.

With little reason to resist, Arya pushed herself to her feet. “Are tied hands really necessary?”

“We will decide at the judgement. You attacked our scavengers. They said you were like a wildcat and they had to fight hard to subdue you.”

“Really.” Arya couldn’t help but smile. She saw in Rob’s expression he obviously wasn’t convinced by the story Lug and his companions must have put together about the way they’d captured Arya.

“May we accompany her?” Morwenna asked as Arya began to walk towards the three Holers. “It is only fair she has some sort of representation.”

Rob hesitated for a moment. “You may.”

Morwenna stepped up beside Arya, indicating for her husband to accompany them as they did so. They ducked out of the cave and into the bright sunlight, and though it was early morning, Arya could already feel the heat on her skin.

 


	8. The Holers place

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bound and naked, Arya is led through the valley of the Holers with the intention of meeting the elders.
> 
> And she begins to learn a little more about the Battle Games. A sport gripping the southern nations.

“Elder Ulric and Elder Helene may I present the scavenge of Lug, Golo and Korg for your consideration. She is being presented in accordance with our customs.”

“And why is she bound?” Elder Helene was probably the same age as Arya, but she had shimmering silver hair that reminiscent of Daenerys.

“She offered a great deal of resistance, despite the group’s efforts to help when they found her starving and dying of thirst in the hinterland.”

“She bit me,” Lug grumbled. Rob raised his hand, and Lug looked at the floor.

“And she claims to be Arya Stark of the house Stark. Brother of King Brandon Stark.”

“The revered assassin of the Night King.” Helene raised her eyebrows. “Is that true?”

“Yes.” Arya kept it simple as she observed Helene and the other Elder. Ulric had already looked her up and down a few times, the licking of his lips betraying private thoughts. His garment was a white toga allowing him to sit cross-legged, but also displaying muscular arms and shoulders. Arya could see he was a handsome youth. Black hair was tied in a smart top knot, and his face was square-jawed and lean.

“Are you here to cause us harm?” Elder Helene wore a similar toga of elegant white fabric. It seemed in such contrast to the mishmash of garments the other Holers wore. Helene’s hands rested on her lap as though in a position of meditation. Arya had to admit she had an aura of powerful serenity.

Arya shook her head. “No, I came to get back what was stolen from me.”

“Stolen you say,” Ulric leaned forward. “That is a grave accusation. “Who has stolen from you?”

“I was travelling to Starfall with two friends. There was an ambush waiting for us. While I got in among the attackers to stop them, riders came down the valley. I fell on the rocks and was knocked out cold. When I awoke, scavengers were stealing my clothes and weapons. I followed them until I came across others from this place.” She nodded toward Lug. “My things are among the items on the table. If you give them back to me and give me enough food and water to get to Starfall, then I can find my friends. I’m sure my brother, the king, will be very grateful if you offered your aid.”

“Do you have any of her items?” Ulric directed the question towards Lug.

“We trade fair. Trade for water and for help.” Lug’s expression looked pained. “We not steal nuffin.”

Ulric looked back at Arya.

She shrugged. “By the time I met them I had very little left to trade with.”

There were a few sniggers among those gathered on the benches. Helene silenced them with a look.

“Though I don’t remember trading my underclothes.” Arya glared at Lug.

“Not traded,” he gave her his toothy grin. “You still have.”

Arya frowned, not understanding.

“I think you’ll find he used them to bind your hands.” Helene was unable to hide the amusement in her voice. “Lug may be simple, but he does not lie.” The Elder looked to Rob. I think she is safe enough to unbind her hands.”

“But if she is Arya Stark?” Ulric shifted his weight on the cushion of moss as though he was preparing to defend himself.

“You will not cause us any problems while you are a guest in our domain, will you?” Helene asked.

“I’m not here to make enemies,” Arya said.

Helene nodded, and the escort moved to the back of her before she felt him tugging at her bonds. In a few moments, her arms were freed, and Arya gratefully stretched out stiff shoulders. The guard offered her the garment which had bound her and true enough it was her underclothes, which she took off him. Lug and his friends were still smiling at the simple joke, adding to her humiliation. Instead of trying to don them there and then, Arya held them in front of her body allowing her to be at least partially covered.

“Thank you, my lady,” Arya said.

Helene waved a dismissive hand. “We have no titles here. We are only the Elders because we have been chosen by the Holers. We live by our customs, however young our dwelling place might be, not by the Iron fist of Kings and Queens.”

“And they have a tendency to be killed.” As a known assassin, Arya winced, realising they weren’t exactly a stunning choice of words.

“More likely to get others killed,” Ulric gave Arya a steely look. “And how do we know you are Arya Stark?”

“They are my things.” She nodded toward the table of scavenged items. They weren’t just her belongings, however. Arya noted the absence of anything belonging to either Gendry or Sandor. It had to be good news. If there had been nothing to scavenge, they were probably still alive. Though it opened up more questions about where they were. Surely Gendry wouldn’t have left her unless they’d been taken prisoner?

“My sword and my dagger. The Valerian steel I used to kill the Night King.”

There was a gasp from the audience, and some of them stretched forward, trying to see the fabled weapon. They may have been a long way from Winterfell, but the news had clearly spread across the kingdoms.

 Even Ulric was impressed by the statement.

“If you are who you say you are,” Helene said. “Then those items rightfully belong to you and should be returned.” There were a few murmurs of dissent from those on the benches, but most nodded in agreement.

“But how do we know she speaks the truth?” Ulric pulled at his lower lip. “Has anyone here seen Arya Stark?”

Everyone shook their heads.

“I heard she was nearly eight feet tall.” One of the older looking youths from the bench with a sweaty looking fur cloak announced. “A brute of a woman who cleaved the Night King with a mighty blade. This waif could not be Arya Stark.”

There were nods of agreement. Some male voices said it was probably Jon Snow who killed the Night King anyway, and not a woman, before being drowned out by the more high pitched female members of the conclave.

“The games,” Helene's voice silenced the chamber. They seemed to hold her in reverence. “You can show us your skills in the games. Demonstrate the abilities you used to slay the Night King, and we will make our judgement. We may not be the greatest fighters or assassins in Westeros, so we would expect it to be easy for the slayer of such a monster.”

“It would still be impossible to prove conclusively,” Ulric pointed out, and Arya knew he was right. She’d been racking her brains to think of something to show who she really was. Besting their finest fighters would only demonstrate she was the best fighter.”

“No, but we will find who scavenged the items she claims.  If they recognise her, then they should be returned. Our customs say we can only scavenge off the dead.”

Ulric nodded. “It is as you say.” He turned to Arya. “Do you agree to take part in our games and prove yourself?”

While she wasn’t even sure what these games were, or what they would entail her doing, Arya didn’t think she had much of a choice. “I will.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As usual thank you for reading my story.
> 
> I'm posting quite a few different works with our intrepid Heroine so don't forget to check them out. And if any top experts of fanfiction know how I can get more eyeballs on my work please let me know :)
> 
> Thanks in advance.


	9. A way forward?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arya meets the village elders and begins to see a way forward. Only they don't believe this slender girl could really be the one who killed the Night King.

“Elder Ulric and Elder Helene may I present the scavenge of Lug, Golo and Korg for your consideration. She is being presented in accordance with our customs.”

“And why is she bound?” Elder Helene was probably the same age as Arya, but she had shimmering silver hair that reminded her of Daenerys.

“She offered a great deal of resistance, despite the group’s efforts to help when they found her starving and dying of thirst in the hinterland.”

“She bit me.” Lug grumbled. The escort raised a hand, and Lug looked down at the floor.

“And she claims to be Arya Stark of the house Stark.”

“The revered assassin of the Night King.” Helene raised her eyebrows. “Is that true?”

“Yes.” Arya kept it simple as she observed Helene and the other Elder. Ulric had already looked her up and down a few times, the licking of his lips betraying private thoughts. His garment was a white toga allowing him to sit cross-legged, but also displaying muscular arms and shoulders. Arya could see he was a handsome youth. Black hair was tied in a smart top knot, and his face was square-jawed and lean.

“Are you here to cause us harm?” Elder Helene wore a similar toga of elegant white fabric. It seemed in such contrast to the mishmash of garments the other Holers wore. Helene’s hands rested on her lap as though in a position of meditation. Arya had to admit she had an aura of powerful serenity.

Arya shook her head. “No, I came to get back what was stolen from me.”

“Stolen you say.” Ulric leaned forward. “That is a grave accusation. Who has stolen from you?”

“I was travelling to Starfall with two friends. There was an ambush waiting for us. While I got in among the attackers to stop them riders came down the valley. I fell on the rocks and was knocked out cold. When I came too scavengers were stealing my clothes and weapons. I followed them until I came across others from this place.” She nodded toward Lug. “My things are among the items on the table. If you give them back to me and give me enough food and water to get to Starfall, then I can find my friends. My brother is King Brandon Stark. I’m sure he would be very grateful if you offered your aid.”

“Do you have any of her items?” Ulric directed the question towards Lug.

“We trade fair. Trade for water and for help.” Lug’s expression looked pained. “We not steal nuffin.”

Ulric looked back at Arya.

She shrugged. “By the time I met them I had very little left to trade with.”

There were a few sniggers among those gathered on the benches. Helene silenced them with a look.

“Though I don’t remember trading my underclothes.” Arya glared at Lug.

“Not traded.” He gave her his toothy grin. “You still have.”

Arya frowned, not understanding.

“I think you’ll find he used them to bind your hands.” Helene was unable to hide the amusement in her voice. “Lug may be simple, but he does not lie.” The Elder looked to one of the escorts. I think she is safe enough to unbind her hands.”

“But if she is Arya Stark?” Ulric shifted his weight on the cushion of moss as though he was preparing to defend himself.

“You will not cause us any problems while you are a guest in our domain, will you?” Helene asked.

“I’m not here to make enemies,” Arya said.

Helene nodded, and the escort moved to the back of her before she felt him tugging at her bonds. In a few moments her arms were freed, and Arya gratefully stretched out her stiff shoulders. The guard offered her the garment which had bound her and true enough it was her underclothes, which she took off him. Lug and his friends were still smiling at his simple joke, adding to her humiliation. Instead of trying to don them there and then, Arya held them in front of her body allowing her to be at least partially covered.

“Thank you, my lady?” Arya said.

Helene waved a dismissive hand. “We have no titles here. We are only the Elders because we have been chosen by the Holers. We live by our customs, however young our dwelling, place might be, not by the Iron fist of Kings and Queens.”

“And they have a tendency to be killed.” As a known assassin, Arya winced, realising they weren’t exactly a stunning choice of words.

“More likely to get others killed.” Ulric gave Arya a steely look. “And how do we know you are Arya Stark?”

“They are my things.” She nodded toward the table of scavenged items. They weren’t just her belongings, however. Arya noted the absence of anything belonging to either Gendry or Sandor. It had to be good news. If there had been nothing to scavenge, they were probably still alive. Though it opened up more questions of where they were. Surely Gendry wouldn’t have left her unless they’d been taken prisoner?

“My sword and my dagger. The Valerian steel I used to kill the Night King.”

There was a gasp from the audience, and some of them stretched forward trying to see the fabled weapon. They may have been a long way from Winterfell, but news of such things had clearly spread across the kingdoms.

 Even Ulric was impressed by the statement.

“If you are who you say you are,” Helene said. “Then those items rightfully belong to you and should be returned.” There were a few murmurs of dissent from those on the benches, but most nodded in agreement.

“But how do we know she speaks the truth?” Ulric pulled at his lower lip. “Has here seen Arya Stark?”

Everyone shook their heads.

“I heard she was nearly eight feet tall.” One of the older looking youths from the bench with a sweaty looking fur cloak announced. “A brute of a woman who cleaved the Night King with a mighty blade. This waif could not be Arya Stark.”

There were nods of agreement. Some male voices said it was probably Jon Snow who killed the Night King anyway, and not a woman, before being drowned out by the more high pitched female members of the conclave.

“The games,” Helene's voice silenced the chamber. They seemed to hold her in reverence. “You can show us your skills in the games. Demonstrate the abilities you used to slay the Night King, and we will make our judgement. We may not be the greatest fighters or assassins in Westeros, so we would expect it to be easy for the slayer of such a monster.”

“It  would still be impossible to prove conclusively.” Ulric pointed out, and Arya knew he was right. She’d been racking her brains to think of something to show who she really was. Besting all their finest fighters would only demonstrate she was the best fighter.”

“No, but we will find who scavenged the items she claims.  If they recognise her then they should be returned to her. Our customs say we can only scavenge of the dead.”

Ulric nodded. “It is as you say.” He turned to Arya. “Do you agree to take part in our games and prove yourself.”

While she wasn’t even sure what these games were, or what they would entail hr doing, Arya didn’t think she had much of a choice. “I will.”


	10. The tests

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arya tries to impress the elders. But the competitions aren't exactly ideal for her small frame. How will Arya get on?

 

The moment she hit the hard dirt floor, Arya realised her opponents weren’t playing fair. The first event, merely a warmup, consisted of running four laps around the outside edge of the arena. Having never been involved in a running race, Arya had decided to stay with the small pack of eight or so other runners. It turned out the tightknit group of Battle Game hopefuls were not impressed at an outsider among their ranks. Turning the corner halfway around the first lap, Arya felt a shove from behind and crashed into the wall before rolling painfully to the ground.

There was laughter from the surprisingly large crowd of Holers gathered on the stone seats in the hot midday sun to watch the events. Alfred had pointed out that while the audience was mainly there for the Battle Games to come, the rumour of the Night King Slayer taking part in the challenge events had enticed them to arrive early.

The crowd had given Arya a big cheer when she’d been introduced, which seemed to have been enhanced by her semi-naked status as her arms were held aloft by the announcer. She’d pulled on her small clothes after the audience with the elders, but had been told she’d have to trade for any other garments. While there were a few lewd offers from those in the hall, Arya decided since the Holers had already seen everything possible, she wasn’t going to give anyone the pleasure, quite literally, of degrading her any further.

Among the competitors, she wasn’t the only one in a state of undress. In fact, one of the men was totally bare. His impressive manhood swinging wildly as he ran, and Arya couldn’t help but stare. The lack of attention probably the reason she ended up picking herself off the floor.

Arya discovered she wasn’t even going up against the best the Holers had. The competition was to pick those considered the most deserving of a place on a Battle Games team. Player status brought with it privileges such as plentiful food and the pick of armour. Arya thought the naked man was probably just trying to get himself a pair of pants, though apart from his manhood there was nothing else impressive about his physique and he looked almost as old as Alfred.

For a group who’d fled the slavery around the Games, Arya found it odd they were still so wrapped up in them, and she was eager to see exactly what the Battle Games were all about. The Elders had said it was likely her friends would be sold to overseas teams if they were good fighters. It meant Arya needed to get to Starfall as soon as she could, and start tracking Gendry and Sandor down.

Scrambling to her feet, Arya hurried after the pack of potential Battle Game recruits, though didn’t put all her efforts into the chase. She’d been able to eat and drink with Alfred and Morwenna while waiting to be called to the arena, but Arya knew her energy levels were still low after the trek across the barren lands. Plus, her short legs were not ideal for competing against some of the taller, leaner Holers in the group.

And Arya didn’t understand how a running race would help prove who she was.

She’d discovered if they judged her not to be Arya Stark, she’d not have her belongings returned and would have to buy passage to the city. Once again, there’d been numerous pre-emptive offers of how she could earn what she needed. Arya was determined it wasn’t going to come to that. But if it did…

Elder Helene had announced the next caravan to the city would be in two days. News which had excited Alfred and Morwenna as they were told they’d be on the trip. And so would Arya if she could convince the Elders of the truth.

Sticking with the back of the pack for three circuits of the arena, Arya suffered when they made a break for the line. While she wasn’t last, swinging manhood man and the only other female were behind her, there were disappointed grumbles as Arya sauntered across the finish some yards behind the leaders. They had probably expected her to fly ahead of the rest of them with magic powers to make up for her slight build, and not the giant of a woman everyone thought she was supposed to be. Arya suspected if Brienne had turned up and claimed she was the killer of the Night King she would more likely be believed.

Hopes of an event more fitting to her skills were dashed when the next one turned out to be a contest called the tug of war. Each contender held onto one end of a thick rope and tried to haul their opponent over a line marked on the floor. Arya only managed one win against the other girl, before a brute of a youth with flaming red hair, pulled so hard she found her face on the dirt once again.

It meant when the announcer next came out to call for Arya to compete her claims of being a slayer of the Night king were greeted with derision by the crowd. Arya cast a glance at the elders who were sat cross-legged on an area outside the hall, allowing them to watch all the events. They didn’t look impressed. However, not being last meant she wasn’t eliminated from the contest. That ignominy went to the only other woman in the group.

The next event was rock throwing. Different sized boulders were lined up for each of the competitors to hurl as far as they could. Arya sank onto her knees in despair and when she came last of all. Even the naked man had managed to throw further than she had.

“You should be off girl.” The wide bellied announcer came over to where Arya sat a little distance from the others at the entrance to the arena.

After each event, the competitors passed under what turned out to be a very refreshing shower to clean them off. The water was contained in huge animal skins sewn together and suspended on a wooden framework resting on top of stone pillars. An attendant gave each contestant a measured burst of water by pulling a length of rope which opened a spout. Arya couldn’t help noticing her water sessions were shorter than everyone else’s.

“But the Elders want to see you in all the events so someone else will go.”

“That’s not fair.” One of the youngest competitors shouted.

“She should go for lying about who she is. Jamie Lannister was the Night Kingslayer.”

“I thought he was just the KingSlayer?” Naked man said.

“No, he killed Daenerys.” The red-haired brute answered

“I thought that was Jon.” Another competitor put in.

“I thought he killed the Night King.”

“Quiet,” The announcer thundered. “The girl stays. Aggy, you were last. You’re out.”

Which was why he had been first to complain, Arya realised because his stone was only just ahead of Arya’s.

“The wall next. Try not to fall off.”

There was nervous laughter from the group, and Arya wondered what he meant. After more food they were called towards main entrance which was on the opposite side from where the elders sat. She noticed the rough hand and footholds around the outside of the arched opening which flowed upwards to a ledge some hundred feet up the cliff. Several ropes dangled down, offering the final climb to safety. It appeared to be a simple race to the top.

Arya finally felt at home. While her diminutive size was often a restriction in climbing, as a long reach allowed you to get onto handholds she might not make, her light frame and agility made up for the deficiency. She might not possess the climbing skills Bran had as a child, but no assassin worth their salt couldn’t scale walls of buildings if they wanted to make their kills.

The remaining contenders threw themselves at the wall as the race began. Using their bulk to shove Arya aside, some of them started their climbs as close to the entrance as possible. While Arya understood they looked to reduce the need for a tricky traverse to reach the narrow climbing funnel above the arch, a few moments stood back looking for the best route seemed a more sensible course of action.

Two of the well-muscled climbers had already swarmed ahead before Arya had even gripped her first handhold. But while they eventually realised the holds were too narrow for their big feet, Arya leapt up the wall like a cat, quickly taking the lead by the time they all had cleared the height of the arched entrance. Her starting position, however, meant there was further to go before she could tackle the final tricky climb to the ropes.

Her traverse proved faster, and for a moment, she looked to be the first one to reach the final straight climb. But of course, the others weren’t going to take it lying down. Just as she was about to fly up the narrow passage, Arya felt a hand grip her ankle. She tried to shake it off and looked down to see naked man grinning up at her. He’d even had the audacity to use her leg as another way to haul himself up. Arya’s arms strained as she tried to cling on. There was suddenly an immense pain in her left hand. Another contender with rippling tanned muscles stood on her fingers as he climbed past. The naked man reached up and grabbed her underclothes as another temporary hold. Though her ankle was released, Arya found herself scrabbling to get a foothold as the weight of the man stood on her fingers had her hissing with pain.

As the foot lifted, it lashed out. Arya narrowly avoided a sold kick on the top of her head which would have surely sent her tumbling to the ground. Instead, she took a glancing blow to the side of her face. Her underclothes began to give way at the naked man’s grip. By the time he let go to grab a proper hold on the rock face, they were halfway down her thighs. Her damaged fingers slipped, and for a moment, Arya found herself clinging to the rock face with one hand as her feet scrabbled for purchase.

It was no time to panic.

Closing her eyes, Arya gathered her strength and threw out her stinging fingers to clutch a solid piece of sandstone. She then took the time to examine the cliff and found suitable footholds she used to steady herself. Panting and taking stock of the race, Arya saw she was in danger of coming last if she didn’t get a move on. But the others were tiring and needed to take more rests.

Arya was just getting started.

In two swift moves, she was on the naked man, hauling one of his feet off a hold so she could use it herself. The man swung round to the side, revealing his lengthy manhood. Arya reached up and yanked it on like a piece of rope which made her next move possible. The man howled like a banshee as she swept past.

“Just be thankful I didn’t use your balls,” Arya snarled.

The muscle man who’d trodden on her fingers was right above her. He looked down and sneered. She knew he was going to try and stomp on her once more and ducked out of the way.  As he replaced his foot on the cliff, Arya leapt for her next hold which brought her at thigh level with the man. Before his leg could move toward her, Arya leant over and sank her teeth into his well-muscled thigh with such ferocity they tore into his flesh. She was still spitting his blood out of her mouth as she used his head as a quick foothold allowing her to reach the ropes.

With her underclothes having slipped to her knees, Arya hoped they’d cling on long enough for her to reach the top. Something brushed her leg. Another competitor reaching out. Lifting her legs, Arya relied on the strength of her arms to complete the rope climb and was grateful for the hands which hauled her onto the ledge were friendly ones.

When she stood and dragged up her underclothes, there was a cheer from the crowd.

It appeared her more unorthodox moves had been popular. Plus, they always appreciated a flash of a pretty ladies bare behind

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next we see how she gets on in the final event. Can she prove herself and get passage to StarFall to find her friends.
> 
> Thanks for all the comments and Kudos so far. Never hesitate to have your say. I always like to hear if the story works or not. It helps me get better.


	11. Arya in her element

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finally Arya gets and event which suits her skills. Can she prove herself.

Back on the floor of the arena, there was a break while the audience took time to eat. The only exceptions being the loin-clothed workers dragging large boulders across the sandy-coloured floor. The remaining contenders sat apart from Arya as they devoured the generous lunch. She’d considered joining them for a moment. Or even trying to find Alfred and Morwenna for company. In the end she sat alone, munching on the thick succulent meat and flatbread, washed down with some bitter-tasting ale. Arya thought the drink had probably been made from moss.

Suspecting none of the Elders were impressed with her performance so far, Arya knew she had to nail the final event.

The final challenge was more suited to her skills. She’d expected events with weapons or even target practise which showed her how little she knew about the Battle Games. Only for the final round had weapons been distributed, and they were short wooden staves.

The task involved staying on top of the huge stone columns or rock boulders dotted around the arena. Some stone plinths had wooden boards joining them, providing precarious walkways. The obstacles were different distances apart, though most of them Arya thought she could jump between.

The game was easy enough. Contenders started from stones at the edge of the arena and the last person remaining off the ground would be the winner. At first, Arya thought it might be smart to stand on one of the plinths at the edge. But it appeared the organisers had catered for such a tactic, having furnished the crowd with small polished sandstones. Any contestant deemed not trying hard enough considered a fair target.

Arya had a sinking feeling she’d be targeted, anyway. Being the last chance to prove the truth of her claim, she’d hoped the skills she’d learned with Syrio and in Braavos would come into their own. As she climbed onto her designated plinth, Arya eyed the array of grey columns, trying to judge those she considered easy to jump between.

A grinning Lug handed her a short stave she would use for fighting. His eyes fixated on her bare breasts. The rules were simple. Fall off, and you’re out. Anything else seemed fair game.

“Begin.”

The announcer shouted, and the crowd roared their approval. Arya was about to jump onto the next column heading towards the centre when the first stone hit her on the back. She turned and scowled as another bounced off the boulder she perched on.

“Move it slayer,” a voice shouted. She ducked as another stone whistled by.

Spinning around, Arya made the leap to the next boulder before bounding across half a dozen more until she neared the centre. She watched the other contestants’ movements. Some waited towards the edges. Moving enough not to annoy the crowd, but not enough to get too involved.

Arya didn’t have a choice. It wasn’t being pelted by stones which gave her motivation but the need to put on a good enough show so they would accept who she said she was.

There was a roar of laughter from the crowd. A large youth had overbalanced and tumbled off a stone of his own accord. The woman warrior nearest to Arya, distracted as she watched, suddenly found herself kicked hard in her back as Arya leapt across and assaulted her. Her blow hard enough to knock the woman off her stone and give Arya sufficient leverage to make the leap to another boulder.

She landed with an almighty wobble, causing the crowd to let out an expectant breath. A stone pinged off a nearby column, but Arya stayed upright.

Other contenders eyed her warily. She moved again. One of the taller men had reached a stone with a plank lain at one edge. With four quick leaps, Arya used the momentum from one jump to bounce across the boulders like they were stepping stones, and landed next to the tall man. He came at her with his stave. Arya ducked below the strike and thundered into his legs. The man collapsed to his knees before rolling off onto the floor.

Trying to capitalise, two opponents had closed in on Arya. One was on a rock connected by the wooden beam, while another crouched on a rock far enough away that Arya didn’t think he could make the jump. The muscular redhead looked as if he would attempt the move, but backed out and looked frustrated at have gotten so close to the slayer.

A bearded topless mad grinned and stepped onto the wooden plank.

“Bad move.” Arya returned the grin and quickly squatted down. Grabbing the plank with both hands she pushed the wood upwards. The man called out in alarm and attempted to throw himself back to the rock he started from.

Stumbling, his head struck the corner of the boulder and began leaking blood. Ignoring him, Arya continued to lift the plank and turned towards the redhead on the plinth looking for another route to get to her. Arya deftly swivelled the plank and let it fall onto the rock he stood on. Before he could react, she hurried across and hurled him to the floor.

She felt something strike the back of her head, and the sting of the blow almost unbalanced her. The cost of keeping her footing meant losing the wooden stave. The weapon she hadn’t even had the chance to use clattered to the floor. The largest of the opponents had bounced across the rocks to attack her. Reaching down, she lifted the plank once more and swung it at him. He’d got a strong foothold, his legs spanning two stones, and instead of being knocked off balance the brute grabbed the plank. He gave a toothless smile despite his youth before trying to yank the wood from Arya’s grasp.

She resisted for a while, and then not only let go but gave it a push.

A shocked look crossed the brute’s face as he overbalanced and crashed to the ground.

The crowd cheered. Were they cheering her? A stone or two whizzed past. Probably not.

Looking around, Arya saw only one opponent still on the rocks. Another youthful boy about her size. He bounced over the boulder towards her and held two staves. She looked for another plank or maybe something to throw. Without dropping to the floor, she saw nothing.

Something caught her eye, and Arya’s hand flicked out to catch it. Her opponent stopped on a stone opposite her, looking on with trepidation as he tried to work out his next move. Arya’s arm flashed through the air, and a rock caught the boy in the middle of the forehead.

The shock and pain distracted him so much it allowed Arya to step over onto his stone and push him off.

Now the crowd cheered for her.

They roared their approval and called her the slayer.

Arya acknowledges them with a wave and smiled. After a pretty shit couple of days, the victory felt good.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the slow updates but I hope you are still enjoying the story.


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